


Kept

by orphan_account



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/F, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is a new slave recently sold into slavery and Steve is his exasperated master in way over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sold

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mentioned non-con in these first few chapters.

The building’s walls were rusted from the damp and the place stank of the filth of human bodies packed together like dogs in their cells; every five feet or so a flickering bare bulb illuminated the way forward deeper into the damp, twisting paths lined with cells and cages.

There were no bulbs in the cells, and no heat either, the wretches inside cowered in the corners, conserving heat, making it difficult to see them in the sparse light.

This thought Captain Steven Rogers, Baron of Weirdwood and Duke of the Southern Oddlands, was the very last thing he wanted to be doing on his first week home from the front.

Two years on campaign for the might of the Empire had left him weary and honestly a bit jaded with the empire’s greed; it seemed to be forever expanding further and further into space, hungry for slaves and resources and wealth, but given the recent…developments in his life he knew it was a duty that had to be done.

His household was growing, his one pleasure in life was his new addition, but his court cautioned that with this new addition would come a host of new problems. Wealth would be needed, which meant more slaves had to be acquired.

And the world knew that his holdings in the Oddlands were the wildest on the world. Slaves had to be handpicked to ensure their survival, nothing but the brightest would do. Which was why he was here, scrounging around in the city’s premier kennels looking for candidates before he had to report to the emperor the next day.

He stepped in front of the twenty third cell of the kennel and peered carefully inside, drawn by the bright blue light he could see glowing faintly in the corner.

The figure there was hunched against the wall with his back towards them, but unlike the others who stared blankly outward with nothing like recognition in their faces this creature’s back tensed. He knew they were watching him.

That was promising.

“This one,” he said turning towards the kennel master a fat, balding man with an unpleasant expression and greedy eyes. The man shared an uneasy look with the guard who had come with them.

“Are you sure my lord,” he asked after a moment of hesitation. “I’m sure we have other merchandise better suited to your-”

“Open the damn door,” he snapped cutting off whatever simpering comment was coming. “Hurry, I don’t have all day.” The men’s nervous looks were replaced by uneasy resignation.

“Bring me a prod,” the man sighed turning towards his guard, “and a catch pole, quick man!” The guard hastened to do his bidding as the old man cursed under his breath and brought out a ring of keys.

“I thought you said all your slaves were tame,” he stated as the guard came trotting quickly back with rubber gloves and an electric prod. He handed the master those along with one of the thick, heavy poles they used to keep slaves more than an arm’s length away and snagged another slimmer, hooked pole from a stand on the wall.

“This one is new,” the man harrumphed. “They brought him in a week ago, pretty thing, but he’s half mad lord, it’ll take a while to train him up sir, might not be worth the trouble.”

They stepped into the cell as the new slave huddled in the back slunk quickly into what was likely the most defensible position in the cell: wedged between the automatic food dispenser and the latrine. Steve’s interest was piqued; of all the slaves he’d purchased this one would be the first to actively fight back.

The slave bared his teeth like a dog and hissed out what was probably a scathing remark in his mother tongue, but stopped quickly when he saw the stranger in his cell, eyes wide with alarm.

His eyes were dark and sharp in the way they took in the pole and the men standing between him and the door. He was filthy and naked but obviously in good weight and form despite the numerous weals and bruises that littered his body. His hands were bound in chain instead of the usual leathers and clattered nosily every time he moved; the sign of an obvious trouble maker. He looked wild and ready to bolt at any moment.

“Come on boy,” the old man coaxed as the other guard moved forward with the thin metal hook. “Easy pretty one.” The man moved instinctively away from the prod putting his manacled hands within reach of the guard’s hook which snagged his chains and dragged him forward allowing the other man to slip the loop securely around his neck.

The slave bit and snarled and struggled against the wire but was ultimately brought out of the cell and moved into the light. The sharp crack of the prod being charged made him immediately go still.

In the light he looked a little worse for the wear, his lip was split, there were dark circles under his eyes that spoke to days without sleep and his thighs were caked in dried blood. Despite those things he seemed quite the find.

His features were fine and almost delicate, and his skin was tanned and exotic, like all slaves his head was shaved bare to help with the vermin, but already a thin fuzz was forming, promising a thick head of dark hair. The fire in his eyes was intriguing, better still he seemed to know when he was beaten and didn’t cause trouble for them once they truly had him caught.

“We’ve no papers for him I’m afraid,” the kennel master explained trying to sound cheerful as they led him back towards an inspection block. “It’s been a mad house since you’ve arrived you see, hundreds of new slaves came in from your campaign, a wonder of course sir, and your country does thank you, but its packed every kennel in the capital, we’ve barely had time to process them!”

They came to an alcove in the wall where slaves could be trussed up for a buyer’s examination and the kennel guard expertly strapped the man in as the master babbled inanely about the shipment he received.

“This one’s been a favorite on the march, you can see,” the man said, tapping the slave gently on the side with the prod as a reminder to stop squirming. “Unfortunately it’s left him quite savage, we had to cage him alone, he’s been that sort of devil. Still, with those looks he’s quite a charmer, the boys had a go at him last night and he was responsive enough, and some folks like them with a little bit of bite, though if you’re looking for a fulltime bed pet I would suggest another item.”

“Looks like they’ve been a bit rough with him,” Steve said choosing to ignore most of the chatter. He reached a hand out to touch the slave who jerked instantly away from him and was corrected by prod almost immediately afterwards.

He yelped and went still allowing him to check his muscle tone and open his mouth to inspect his teeth.

“Yes, I mean to speak with them about it after their shift, but you know how these situations can be lord; they bring a man’s blood up,” the slaver simpered “It’s easy to get a bit carried away.”

He frowned at that and stroked a hand absently down the man’s side to comfort the shiver the words produced.

“What’s this then?” he asked tapping his hand against the thing that had drawn him in the first place: a bright circle of light imbedded in the man’s chest. The piece was surrounded in reams of thick, knotted scar tissue and the metal there looked surgical grade, but one could never tell with the cargo taken in during campaign season; slaves came in from around the worlds, each as exotic and outrageous as the lands they came from.

“Pash knows, some sort of life gauge maybe?” the kennel master replied with a shrug. “There are no papers on this one Lord as I said, so it’s hard to guess where he comes from. It looks expensive and he screams when you go near it like it hurts, our guess is it’s tied to his life somehow, could be magic or fabrication, but again, who knows?”

“Have you tried to take it out?” he asked curiously. At his words the man’s eyes grew wide with alarm and he struggled against his bonds. The kennel master, having already had to correct him once, hissed with impatience and held the prod against his neck until he screamed.

They stepped back and let the man do his work. The prod was a harsh discipline and slaves were known to throw up or lose control of their bowels after it was applied, the alcove was equipped with a grate to help with the cleanup but it wouldn’t be much help if a slave was sick on your shoes.

The slave sobbed out some sort of plea and the kennel master stopped briefly to administer a firm “no” and started in again until the man kept quiet and still in his bonds.

“Apologies my lord,” he clucked as the slave struggled to control himself. “No one has worked with him much as you can see. He still has some freeborn habits, speaking out of turn and looking his master in the eyes and such, I promise you we usually do not stand for such impertinence here.”

“It’s alright, let him alone,” he said firmly rubbing a hand through the stubbly growth of hair on the slave’s head. “He’s green, it’s not like he knows all the rules yet.”

“I don’t think soft touch is going to work on this one sir,” the man warned as he made a comforting sound under his breath when the slave gulped back a wretched sob. “It’s best to break them in early.”

He ignored him and patted the slave like dog until he felt him settle under his hand. The slave subtly moved away from his hand and looked up at him. Under their thick fringe of dark, full lashes his eyes were full of fury and fear and deep, obvious hatred.

“I’ll give you six hundred for him,” he said turning back towards the kennel master.

“Sir, you wound me,” the master blustered trying to appear charming. “Unregistered he may be but he’d sell for at least twice that in the comfort district!”

“No he wouldn’t,” he replied with a slight smirk. “Don’t try to lie, you’ve had trouble with him from the start, and not the kind that can be cured by few weeks bound to the sheets. He’s a nuisance and you’re ready to sell, you’re going to sell him to me, and for six hundred.” The man frowned and shook his head.

“I’ll not sell him for anything less than nine hundred,” he harrumphed. “And that doesn’t even cover what he’s cost to ship and feed.”

“Well, that’s a pity because I won’t be paying an ounce more,” he stated firmly. “He’s damaged goods with no training and no testing done, and it’s not like he’s a virgin.” The slave flinched at that but kept his eyes meekly downcast though it was obvious that he was paying careful attention to the proceedings.

The slaver sighed loudly and fixed him with a shrewd eye.

“I’ll take eight hundred then.”

“Not on your life, six-seventy five.”

“Seven seventy-five.”

“Seven hundred.”

“C’mon cap, surely he’s worth at least an extra half.”

“Seven fifty then, but I want him registered through this kennel.”

“What?!”

“I’m paying more than he’s worth and you know it.”

“Fine, the price I’ll agree to, but the papers-”

“Will be necessary. And as a thank you for your cooperation, your people can be the first to look through my chain-line the next time I bring in cargo.”

“…Fine, Seven fifty and a pedigree, but I’ll hold you to your word Lord.” The slaver chuckled sticking out his hand.

He accepted it somewhat warily and they walked towards one of the dozen or so corner offices to settle out the pricing paperwork.

Later he was directed to the baths where slaves were processed for sale. He found his new purchase being doused with icy buckets of water and scrubbed roughly clean. The women who did this called out cheerful greetings as they went about their work.

“This one’s just about ready for paperin’ lord,” one woman called out from where she was scrounging in a cupboard for a slave shift that would fit him. “He’s a pretty thing, congratulations are in order certainly.” He gave her a curt nod and the women teetered when he stepped back out into the hall to be directed into a processing office.

After a moment a kennel slave was sent to direct him towards the office where the kennel master was getting a pedigree in order.

“This is all highly unusual you realize,” the man said sourly as he scribbled across the document. “If the merchandise goes rogue I’ll be under court gaze, which is risky business.”

“If he goes rogue on my lands he’ll be put to the teeth,” he said serenely taking a little bit of satisfaction at how the old man shuddered in horror. “You have nothing to fear.”

“I don’t suppose you have a seal with you?” the slaver sighed knowing he was beaten, “Or know what you’d like him to be registered as?”

“Register him as a companion,” he replied checking his pockets for anything that might bear the five pointed star that was his standard. “That’s your average pedigree isn’t it? It seems harmless enough.” The slave was ushered in still damp and shivering from his bath just as he’d managed to find a sealing ring in the depths of his coat.

“Will this work?” he asked turning the heavy thing over to the slaver who inspected it for a moment.

“It’s beautifully made Lord,” the man said after a moment, “It was intended for beasts, but it’ll work fine for this purpose.” He walked over to where a fire was burning merrily in its grate warding off the ever present chill and dropped the ring onto the coals. He nodded to the woman who stood waiting by with a bundle of cloth wrapped in her arms. “I’m assuming you’ve brought along his particulars?”

She rattled off his height and weight at once as well as a dozen other things that were needed to complete the paperwork and handed over the folded up bundle, which turned out to be a slave shift of relatively good cloth and a set of hand chains for travel.

“Will you be needing anything else my lord?” she asked politely as she set the items on a stool by the slave. “If you’ll be traveling far I might suggest a salve after the sealing.”

“Yes,” he replied, “Bring one and the name of a good tack shop please.” The woman nodded and stepped out allowing a pair of kennel guards inside who moved to bracket the slave on each side.

Steve felt a pang of pity for the slave who looked between them warily but obviously had no idea what was coming.

The master finished the paperwork with a sigh and made a vague hand motion to his guards who seized the slave at once.

“Do you want him gelded as well?” he asked as he reached for a pole under his desk and walked to the fire. “We prefer to do any modifications now, so they heal all at once.”

“No, leave him intact,” he replied as he read through the rest of the paperwork and signed in all of the required places. The man nodded in acknowledgement and used the pole to bring the ring, now red hot, out of the fire.

“Any place in particular you want your seal my lord?” he asked as he came to stand in front of the struggling slave who looked at the brand in horror.

“The standard designation is fine,” he stated. “Try not to hold it too long though, I need him fit for travel.” The man nodded and the guards held the slave in a way that gave him access to the inner portion of his hip where he placed the brand.

The slave howled briefly in pain but managed to get himself under control obviously fearing further punishment. He stood docilely afterwards and let himself be tended by the woman, who smeared the fresh burn with a cream and tugged the shift over his head, and allowed the new shackles to be chained to his wrists without much fuss.

“There’s a tack shop just up the road my lord,” the woman said taking the papers from her master and handing them to Steve in a pretty stamped leather case. “We send all of our clients there. They’ll have collars and bits and anything else you might need, We’ll send you your registry just as soon as its processed, enjoy your purchase!” A guard snapped a lead on the slave’s chains and handed it to him with a polite bow.

He took it, nodded to the master and the woman, and gave it a slight tug to encourage his new purchase to follow.

Outside it was growing dark, but the light was clearly too much for the slave after a week of the near darkness of his cell and he blinked and brought his hands up to try to protect himself from the sun.

Steve waited a moment for his eyes to adjust and whistled sharply for Achilles, his mount, who tore across the rooftops and slid into the streets leaving a crowd of startled pedestrians in her wake.

She growled happily in greeting and hissed in delight when he reached up to scratch behind her ears, her spiked tail thumping good-naturedly on the ground. His new slave looked repulsed at first and then curious and finally startled when she fixed her four eyes on him and roared.

“It’s alright,” he said patting her on the neck when her scales rippled in challenge. “She won’t hurt you if you keep still.” The slave lowered his hands but adjusted his stance subtly, moving to the balls of his feet as if in preparation for a fight, and allowed Achilles to surge up and inspect him.

 She sniffed him soundly and flicked her great forked tongue across his face before growing bored and returning to Steve to try and bury her massive head into his armpit; a habit she’d picked up as a cub.

“What is it?” his new slave asked. Steve looked at him in surprise. After his earlier run in with the prod and the way he’d babbled nonsense in his cell he’d assumed the man did not know the language and would know to keep quiet.

“She’s a warwurg,” he replied carefully. “A fabricated mount used for heavy cavalry here. They can be dangerous, you can’t turn your back to them or move too suddenly, or they’ll kill you. I breed them, so keep that in mind.” The slave nodded slowly and relaxed his stance.

“Alright,” he said and gradually and deliberately moved backwards until he was as far away as his chains would allow keeping his eyes locked to hers. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Steve replied impressed by his self-control. He’d seen free men soil themselves and faint dead away on the battlefields coming close to one, but aside from his earlier trepidation his slave seemed to show no fear. “That’s just right. This one is called Achilles, she knows your scent now and shouldn’t harm you unless told to.” Achilles snarled and screeched and continued to try and tangle Steve in her many legged embrace. He took hold of her reins and tugged sharply bringing her back under control.

“Easy girl,” he said as she stamped and blew clearly eager to be on her way, “I’m off to run errands, errands understand?” The warwurg settled and stared fiercely through her gold eyes as his new slave looked on in interest. “Good Girl, find a den and wait for me, and take this.” Achilles, given her orders, delicately took the leather case he held out to her and swallowed it down into her throat pouch before roaring and tearing across the street.

She leapt up onto the nearest rooftop and was out of sight in seconds. The small crowd that had gathered to see her quietly dispersed leaving Steve alone with his slave once more.

“Are they intelligent?” He asked curiously staring out at where Achilles had gone.

“Are you?” Steve asked, “You’d think you’d have learned not to speak unless spoken to by now.” The slave looked surprise and then sullen and wary and cast his eyes down. “To answer your question, they are relatively clever and take commands, but they can’t reason like higher creatures can.” 

The slave nodded but kept his eyes down and stayed silent. Steve was again surprised but satisfied with the sudden display of obedience and tugged him along into the promised slave tack shop a few blocks up the street.

If the woman who ran the shop was shocked to see a member of the ruling class in her shop she hid it well and welcomed him graciously.

“In from the front your grace?” she asked holding her hand out for the slave’s lead and taking him towards a stand. “My wives say your boys brought in quite the haul.”

“Yes, the season is over,” he replied watching her expertly buckle his new purchase into the stand by his ankles and wrists. “I’m told the kennels are quite full.”

“Oh, aye, it’s been bedlam,” The woman grinned. “I’ve had fifty just today, though I must say you’ve the prettiest one I’ve seen. Is he new?”

“Yes, he’s very green be careful,” Steve said wryly, “I’m told he has a bit of a reputation.”

“Oh, could this be Master Wylun’s little savage?” the woman asked. “I heard he had one in who nearly took a man’s hand off when he tried to have a go.” The slave looked her dead in the eyes and glared but she only chuckled and rubbed a hand across his head. “Here’s a cheeky one.” 

“I’m sure this is the one,” he sighed. “He’s had a thin time on the march from what I’m told.” The woman considered the slave thoughtfully and shrugged before rummaging for a pair of gloves and a packet of lubricant from the pouch on her waist.

“The march is long and hard for all,” she said conversationally as she strapped on the gloves and poured a generous amount of slick into her hand. “But that’s why we have it, to ensure only the strong live to serve. This one is strong, and he obviously wanted to live, and if you want to live, you submit.”

She lifted up his shift and palmed the swell of his ass in warning before spreading his cheeks and probing inside ignoring his grimace and hiss of pain. “There now, learning already see? Hmmm, well, there’s no tearing but he _is_ still tender, if you’re going to be using him this way I would suggest you wait a few days before having him.” The slave bit his lip and looked away from them both visibly humiliated but wisely said nothing and allowed the woman to continue her exam.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Steve replied. “Right now I’m more interested in having him chipped and maybe purchasing a collar and some boots for the march home.” The woman brightened and walked back behind the counter removing her gloves with practiced ease and locating a gun in the same easy movement.

“We do chip here your eminence, we take ounces and oaths and we have lots of lovely merchandise for your new pet.” she said cheerfully. She snapped her fingers and a pretty young slave stepped out from the back. “Let me scan your particulars while Semyl here locates some items in your boy’s size.”

Steve nodded and handed over his identity card while the young slave approached the other and they began to quietly converse. The shopkeeper took his card with a polite bow and loaded it into the gun.

“What kind of chip are you looking for your grace?” She asked as her slave left his slave’s side and disappeared quietly into the back. “We have them in every flavor and fashion, including the new P-88s that came out just this year.”

“Give me the best you have,” he said distractedly watching the way the fight seemed to leave his slave’s eyes as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Charge it to the card.”  The woman was delighted and punched a few things into the gun’s display panel before walking towards the slave and pushing his head down.

“Relax sweet one,” she cooed lining the gun level with the topmost vertebra in his neck. “Or this will hurt more than it has to.” She charged the gun and fired causing the slave to scream in panic and probably agony.

“This will find you anywhere you are in the Empire pretty one,” she said sweetly patting him on the side as he cursed her and wept. “IF you manage to escape and you are declared missing it will fill your blood with a slow acting toxin, melting your bones and eventually your flesh unless you return to your estate. You belong to the Empire now darling, welcome.” His slave spat something at her in his mother tongue and struggled in his bonds but she ignored him and went to put the gun in a sterilizing rack.

She returned his card with the same respectful bow just as her slave shuffled politely back in with several pairs of beautifully made boots and a case of fancy collars. She showed him each item while her master went on about the qualities and make of each before he finally selected a pair of well-made, sturdy smithing boots and an admittedly beautiful iron collar with a soft leather interior that would protect his throat.

“A fine choice lord,” the shopkeeper simpered as her slave packed up the unwanted items and took them back to wherever they had come from. “Please give me moment to find a torch.” She disappeared into the back leaving him alone with his slave, who was still slumped miserably in his bonds staring dejectedly at nothing.

“Do you have a name?” he whispered breaking the tense silence. “Or something you want to be called?”

“Fuck you,” the slave slurred tiredly. He seemed to realize his mistake and tensed as if expecting a blow but Steve only chuckled and walked over to where he was chained.

“I’m not going to call you that,” he said reaching a hand out to tug his shift back down to preserve whatever modesty he had left. They had given him a pleasure shift that barely covered his buttocks and left very little to the imagination and it had ridden up in his struggles. “I’m asking because in a moment she’ll be back and she’s going to stamp my standard into the metal, along with whatever I’m going to call you, so you have a moment to decide for yourself.”

The slave glared up at him, his hatred clearly battling with some sort of long standing pragmatism, before he exhaled and went back to staring at his feet.

“Tony,” he sighed, “Call me Tony.” 


	2. keeping secrets

 

 

 

 

Tony woke before dawn.

 

Well, a more technical description would be that Tony was jolted awake before dawn by the clatter of feet above his head as dozens of slaves were marched into the kitchen to cook breakfast for the patrons of the inn.

 

He groaned and curled up tighter in his corner of the cellar, trying to block out the din and snatch a few more minutes of precious sleep.

 

As soon as the suns peaked over the horizon, a handler would come down to set him to some task, but not before then and he needed what rest he could get.

 

They had been there a week and already his hands were rubbed raw from scrubbing dishes, mending harnesses, and scouring floors.

 

He had been purchased, along with about forty others, by that bastard war baron who had business in the city, but soon they would be marched out and transported to his estate, where they would spend the rest of what was left of their lives as chattel to be used and sold off at his whim and fancy. That didn’t leave him much of a window, honestly.

 

Tony wasn’t sure what he thought of his new ‘master’, but he would remember the march into slavery for the rest of his life, and those thoughts were enough to fuel a singular burning rage for everyone who partook in it, even if the good captain seemed oddly mild mannered for a slave owning war baron.

 

The cellar door rattled and he tensed, squeezing his eyes shut against the flare of light he knew was coming, and waited to hear who was coming through.

 

“Good morning boy!” came the quiet voice of the old maid from his master’s rooms as she ambled in with a battered tray and a heavy leather leash. “The Jama’s not quite ready for you today, so I brought you an early breakfast.” He sat up at once at the word ‘breakfast’ and graced her with his most charming smile.

 

Breakfast, lunch, and the occasional dinner all consisted of the same bland pellets of unidentifiable foodstuffs he had been fed on the march and in the holding pens.

 

It had a stale, gritty texture to it that was almost unpalatable, but food was food, and the kibble was only doled out to him sparingly due to his temperament, so he was always eager to see it. In the mornings it tended to be watered down into mush and was about as appealing as soggy cardboard and as always he had to eat it with his hands, which was degrading in a way he couldn’t quite put to words.

 

He kept himself close to the wall but allowed the old woman to pat him on the head like a dog while he ate and was “rewarded” with a glass of milk before getting clipped to the leash and led up the stairs to where the other slaves where already too busy working to be fed, the poor bastards.

 

Tony hated the very idea of being forced into some else’s service, but that didn’t mean he was too proud to beg, he knew when to ham up the cooks and the servants for extra morsels and breaks and was momentarily grateful he’d managed to charm the old maid; he wished he could say he had done the same for the owners of the place.

 

The innkeeper took one look at him, scowled, and reached for a prod before taking the lead from the maid and giving it a warning tug.

 

“No mischief from you today you rascal,” she warned leading him out of the kitchen and into the back, where a group of slaves were washing and mending clothes. “Or I’ll let you have it, by the gods I will.” She forced him onto a stool, placed a wash bucket of soapy water in front of him and nodded to where the others were busy scrubbing industriously away at the inn’s bed sheets. “You’ll do this until you’re sent for, understood?” He nodded and the woman clipped him to a nearby pole before walking away, grumbling unpleasantly under her breath.

 

Everything at this inn was done by hand, so was most of what was done on this planet apparently. The technology of the empire was reserved to the richer and more lucrative inner core of planets, which had nearly brought him to tears, but he wasn’t one to panic, and he settled in for a long wait, waiting to seize his chance, there was plenty to learn out here besides.

 

“So what will it be today then?” one of his neighbours sighed. “Will it be the prod or the lash from the master? Or maybe you’re planning to actually behave?”

 

“I think I’m due a beating from yesterday,” Tony called back cheerfully. “As for today, who knows, I’m sure they’ll surprise me.” He looked dubiously between his bucket and the pile of dirty linens another slave had piled near him to wash and wondered where to begin.

 

A few disastrous attempts at laundry later had the other slaves roaring with laughter. Tony scowled, soaked to the skin and covered with suds, and dared them to do better.

 

Two slaves stopped their admittedly much more dignified attempts at washing and shook their heads in weary amusement.

 

“What in the hells have you done there?” the older, shorter of the two sighed while his companion, a man who always looked at Tony like he was something to eat, grinned unpleasantly. “You look half-drowned; don’t tell me you’ve never washed a sheet before.”

 

“Well, no,” he admitted shrugging casually, “Not by hand at any rate, this is all a bit below my pay grade honestly.” That was the understatement of the century, but of course the other men couldn’t have known that.

 

“Pash boy, what the hell are you good for then?” the shorter man chuckled. Tony shrugged and stood up uneasily as the other slave sauntered over to loom over him. He wondered if this could be trouble, a couple of the slaves seemed to have an eye on him, but there were no handlers in sight.

 

“Oh, I think we all know what you’re good for,” he leered, while a few onlookers in the back jeered and catcalled. Tony mentally considered his options and decided it was best to start his patented aversion training early with these folks. He swept the man’s feet from under him, kicked him once hard in the stomach, flashed his friends the rudest gesture he could think of, and was rewarded with an angry curse punch to the stomach for his troubles.

 

What happened next was a bit of a blur, but he was proud to say he held up, given that his hands were chained together and he was tied to a stick.

 

 A servant came running out of the inn and a few horrifically painful jolts from the prod had them sorted within moments.

 

“I should’ve known you’d be the cause of this,” he sighed after he laid Tony low with the prod and stood over him, waiting for the aftershocks to diminish. “You’ve got no sense do you?” He hauled him up by the collar and tugged him roughly inside and towards the second floor office his owner had rented out for business and rapped on the door.

 

Rogers opened it after a moment’s pause and took in the state of him with a frown. He grinned, revealing bloodied teeth, and winked at him as he was shoved roughly inside.

 

“Begging your pardon your grace,” the servant mumbled, “but your boy’s been at it again; the suns ain’t even over the ridgeline and he was already caught scrapin’ with the others.”

 

“Others?” the baron asked as he titled his head this way and that to inspect the damage. “How many were there?” The man shrugged and explained what he’d seen as the baron poked around the office for a cloth and handed it to him to wipe the blood off of his face.

 

“Were there any others injured?” the baron asked after the other man was done giving his mumbled account of the events.

 

“I didn’t stop to look lord,” the other man admitted. “Didn’t look like it; I wanted to bring this one to you before the mistress got a holt of ‘im, she’s been in a right temper with ‘im on account of the master’s hand, see?”

 

Tony’s first night in the cellars, the innkeeper’s husband had tried to pay him a visit and he had nearly severed his index finger for it. He wasn’t sure what he had told his wife, but the beating he’d received as a result had been administered by his son and had been the most severe of his life. He was still limping, to the jeering amusement of his fellows.

 

The baron pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in a deep, long suffering way before thanking the servant and dismissing him, leaving the two of them alone.

 

“I’m not going to bother asking if you’ve any sense at this point,” he growled. “I know you’re just going to stand there looking proud of yourself.”

 

“You know me so well,” he replied with a grin. “Though I hope I’m not getting too predictable this early in our relationship, I’m told it kills the romance.” The man didn’t bother to respond to that, and sat back at his desk, ignoring him in a way that said he had little interest in what he had to say. That stung more than he cared to admit and his grin soured into more of a baring of teeth, but the baron hardly noticed.

 

“Well, you can stand there,” he commanded, looking back over his papers, “Until I decide what to do with you.” He went back to work immediately and left Tony standing not even bothering to see if he would obey.

 

It was a funny thing, once his mere presence in a room would have the commanded the respect and awe of all around. He had defused conflicts with charm and charisma alone, but that was before the war and before his capture and now he was lucky if he was called to heel at some man’s foot by his own name and was spat at and ignored as if he were a particularly troublesome dog no one had the time for.

 

He was lauded as one of the greatest men in his generation, and now he stood in chains, practically naked, at the mercy of a man who could, by the rights of his people, do to him as he wished. It was a sobering moment, and he tried to memorise it for later, when the rage he was feeling would be needed.

 

He waited until the man’s attention was back on his papers before striding over to slide elegantly into the chair in front of his desk and fiddle with his pens.

 

The captain frowned over his papers at the sweet, innocent smile plastered on his face before sighing and going back to his work and ignoring him. Tony stole the unused tablet by his elbow and began to absently scribble anything that came to mind: calculations, blueprints to things he thought he understood the workings of, theories to others he didn’t, strange words he had never heard before and snatches of languages in the slave barracks that were interesting, things he might need later.

 

He was designing a small scouting aircraft when he realized that he hadn’t heard his master shuffling papers in some time; he looked up to find him watching him curiously, though thankfully, with no anger in his expression.

 

“Are you actually using that or are you doing whatever it is you’re doing simply to annoy me?” he asked bluntly once he had Tony’s attention. It irked him that the man thought he could be stupid enough to bang around on a tablet with no direction and he opened his mouth to say as much but was cut off by the man taking the tablet and gazing down at it thoughtfully.

 

“Well, seeing as you’ve managed to do something here I didn’t even know it could do I suppose I have my answer,” he sighed ruefully pushing it back. “You’ve been sitting there for nearly an hour, it’s uncanny.”

 

“Yeah well, there are some things I can sit still to do, shocking I know,” he stated absently going back to his design. The baron, it seemed, was not particularly worried about his impertinence and chuckled.

 

“What are you working on?” he asked. Tony looked up in suspicious surprise. The man’s voice was gentle and amused but he’d been burned before. He could be treated anywhere between “favourite housepet” and “annoying project” based on how willing he was to cooperate and sadly he still had to know where the limits were.

 

“Just tinkering,” he said carefully testing for reaction. The baron’s slight smile diminished some and he blew out a breath in what was likely another aborted sigh.

 

“That was not a request for information Tony,” he stated. “I want to know what you’re doing.” He curled himself defensively around the tablet and wiped it quickly. It wasn’t in his nature to share, and he’d be damned if he gave up his designs to some rich man who claimed to own him. It wouldn’t do to look too tame yet anyways.

 

He slid back the tablet without a word and stared defiantly down at the ground as the man swore under his breath and stood up.

 

“You’re making this very hard on yourself you know,” the captain sighed. “This sort of heedless belligerence isn’t doing you any favours.”

 

“You wanted to own me well, you do now,” he murmured, “and now you can deal with everything that comes with that.” He snuck a peek at the Lord’s thunderous expression and shifted quietly on his feet, awaiting judgment.

 

“Alright then,” Rogers said voice clipped. “If we must, I suppose we can do it this way too.”  He took hold of the lead on the collar and gave it a tug, forcing him to follow.

 

Tony felt the slight edge of fear coming on. For all that he put on a brave face the punishments were brutal and with each new session had become harder to endure. He wasn’t sure what would come next, but it promised to be awful.

 

The baron led him out behind the inn and towards the whipping racks that stood behind the stable dens.

 

“Strip.” he commanded as an attendant came forward to ask what was needed. Tony tried to keep his hands from shaking as he tugged at the cord that kept the shift he was wearing from sliding off and slipped gingerly out of it to stand naked in front of the two men.

 

He had never been body shy prior to his capture, in fact he’d reveled in it, but there was something humiliating and debasing about standing nude in front of people who thought of you as less than a person. Still, the last time he had tried to resist had gone poorly and he wasn’t about to repeat the mistake.

 

“Good boy,” the baron murmured sliding a hand through his hair once in what was likely a reward for his lack of resistance. He secured his hands to the loop on the station that kept them above his head and tilted his chin up to remind him of the rules.

 

“Ten lashes for the commotion yesterday and ten for this morning,” he said, considering. “Five for the insubordination in my office, you’ll count. If you start to beg the count starts again, the same for struggling, if you pass out you’ll be woken with the prod and five lashes will be added, understood?” Tony could feel himself starting to shake but he nodded anyways and the man nodded back and motioned for the attendant who came forward with the whip. “Begin.”

 

The first lash was always the worse. The whip the baron preferred never left a mark on him, but cut him down somewhere he couldn’t hide from it or wish himself away, the agony lingered long after the strike and even early into a round it was a struggle to stay coherent.

 

Somewhere around lash fifteen he was ready to beg. The whip felt like it was slowly eating the skin off of his back with every strike and he could feel his legs struggling to stay under him. He gritted his teeth and counted on.

 

Lash twenty saw the tears start. It wasn’t against the rules to cry, but it was worse than the beating in some ways; being reduced to tears made him feel guilty of some grave offense that had little to do with the actual whipping. The attendant waited patiently while he brought himself under control enough to sob out the next number.

 

He almost flinched away from lash twenty five and was pathetically grateful the men in attendance decided to ignore his slip-up. The attendant unclipped him and helped him to the ground with a pat on the head and a murmured wish that he’d learn his lesson.

 

When he could coordinate his limbs, he scrubbed at his face and waited for the baron to say something. The man was always softer somehow after beating him, like he was sorry about it.

 

“It doesn’t always have to be like this,” Rogers sighed walking over to where he knelt in the dirt, “You’re too goddamned stubborn.”

 

“I’m told its one of my charms,” he replied. “I’m guessing it’s an acquired taste though.” The Lord came forward and rubbed a hand through his hair again. Something about the contact was grounding after the pain, but he forced himself to ignore the peculiar pleasure of the action and pulled away a little.

 

“What am I going to do with you?” his master asked softly. He giggled, slightly hysterically, and rested his head on the other man’s hip.

 

“You could always let me go.”

 

**

 

Tony was dozing at his master’s feet. His cheek was resting on the man’s knee, and despite efforts to keep awake he could feel his eyes drooping.

 

After his whipping, the baron had decided maybe it was best to take him into town, thinking that perhaps a walk might help expend some of his restless energy and channel it into something more productive, mostly keeping up with the warwurgs; which after getting over his initial wariness he could admit to being pretty fond of.

 

The creatures were bred in pairs, Achilles’ monstrous white form an aggressive counterpoint to the substantially smaller and all together less intimidating red male Patroklos, who at one point had had two heads.

 

The baron had mentioned that as something of an afterthought stating that he was glad his mount had seen fit to rid them all of the more tiresome head’s company. Tony was still floored. He’d heard of course that the empire was full of bizarre technology and these hodgepodge creatures; but it was one thing to hear about them in whispered rumors and another altogether to see them in action.

 

Apparently the females bit the heads off of their mates once they were finished mating, which he thought was a pretty gruesome way to go. Someone out there must’ve agreed because the males were now designed with two heads instead of one so that they could live to breed again.

 

The captain had explained this all to him on the ride into some imposing stone monolith at the center of town, and then instructed him on how to lead them into the huge covered stone pits where they were stabled and walked them inside.

 

He’d been largely silent since the morning and had sat in on the captain’s meetings without fuss, even submitting to sitting in the customary slave position at his feet with little more than an eye roll and a huffed sigh. There was no use fighting it, and when he did as he was told, the captain was more apt to answer his questions.

 

Now he was lagging. His eyes were glazing and his nervous, relentless shifting had finally subsided. He’d cuddled against the baron’s leg to fight against the chill in the room and the boring drone of the financiers seemed to be lulling him to sleep despite his best efforts to fight it.

 

 “Captain Rogers, sir?”

 

He looked up to where the finance ministers were currently waiting, expectantly for an answer to a question the baron had obviously not heard and felt his lips kick up into a smile as the man coughed lightly to hide his embarrassment and slid a hand into Tony’s hair to stroke reflexively. Tony grumbled and shifted in place; the damn man couldn’t keep his hands out of it.

 

It was so short, its texture like fur, he was trying to put some effort into growing it out, but between the beatings and the damage sustained in the holding cells, he was stretched a bit thin, that and he didn’t want to arouse suspicion. He wished the other man would stop running his fingers through it though; it was starting to feel pretty good and he was reluctant to spare any charitable thoughts.

 

Still, he had to admit it was nice to know someone else thought that fiscal gains made for poor conversation. To spare Rogers any further embarrassment he kicked on the fire safety system and pretended to jerk awake.

Show time.

The sprinklers instantly came on and the men in the room began to yell in panic scooping up papers and rushing out the door to shout questions at those rushing by.

Rogers was soaking wet, but the look on his face was so relieved Tony was tempted to smile. Instead he blinked owlishly and scooted himself under the desk to avoid the water.

“What’s going on?” he asked as the captain wiped water out of his eyes and tugged him out from under the table.

“There must be a fire,” the baron replied leading him out of the buildings and towards one of the poles where people chained their slaves. “Stay here, I’m going to see if anyone needs help.”

“Where else would I go?” he asked pointedly rattling the chain connected to his collar. The captain huffed out a small laugh and shook his head before racing off to push through where a crowd was gathering.

Tony could’ve jumped for joy. Honestly, it was too easy. While everyone was distracted he whipped out the key he had swiped from his sanctimonious master’s pocket while he had been cuddled up to his leg and quickly rid himself of the chain connected to his collar. He waltzed through the crowd and into the building and made his way towards the conference rooms they had been in.

 He had been trying to get the baron to take him into town all week knowing that the man was somehow linked to the coffers of the empire. The planet was mostly analog, but in order to coordinate money and communicate with the imperial banks they had to use deep range hailers, which he would need to contact home and get off of this rock.

He spotted the room they had been using and dropped in to retrieve the captain’s tablet, which he had left under the table, before heading towards the offices he’d seen on their way in triggering every alarm and safety measure he could as he went to maximize the chaos. He found an empty office and stepped into it, shutting off the sprinklers and locking the door as he went.

The computer systems were, of course, locked, but it was wonderful what you could do with the stolen tablet of a high-level security official and the ability to hack firewalls with your mind.

“Greeting planet Earth!” Tony said spinning in the slightly soggy desk chair and helping himself to some chocolates on the desk as he recorded his message. “This is prince Stark checking in, not from the rendezvous point- that was attacked, lovely intel work boys- but from a little piece of nowhere called Jareth apparently, sending you the coordinates now.

The good news folks, despite all you naysayers and detractors wishing otherwise Extremis is online and fully operational, the bad news is I’ve sort of been enslaved and I might need a ride home. Also on the good news side though I’ve figured out that pesky slave trading route problem, you’re welcome, please bomb the hell out of the following coordinates at your earliest convenience, like tomorrow if you can, seriously. I’m hailing you from captivity, it’s all very degrading, but I won’t be back until I have my answers so you know, stand by, Stark out.”

He concluded his message with an info dump of everything he had learned in the last two weeks, from the warwurgs to the slave mirco-chipping and everything in between. The brass were all mostly idiots back home but hopefully someone could do something with the information.

Once he was sure he had put everything exactly back to rights and had wiped all traces of his message from the system he snuck back to the conference room, dumped the tablet, and moseyed his way back outside to where the chain was waiting and clipped himself in.

He shut off all of the alarms as a bit of an afterthought and when the baron came back looking irritated and exasperated he found him pretending to pick the locks on the collar.

“You can’t even be left alone for a moment,” the lord grumbled taking the pick out of his hands and getting close enough for Tony to slip his key back into his pocket. “Where would you even have gone Tony?” Tony scowled at the ground and pretended to ignore him as the man rubbed at his forehead and murmured something in a quiet snatch of language, probably a prayer.

“Come on, let’s go,” the baron said giving his lead a tug, “The system’s having some sort of malfunction and with the way the coats work in this city it could take them hours to sort it out.”

“Coats?” Tony asked as the man whistled for his warwurgs who came tearing out of the ground at speed.

“Scientists,” Rogers replied absently waving his hand in the general direction of the building, “Engineers, fabricators, that lot, we’re pretty far from the capital and they take their time getting out here without bribes. I’ve had enough, and with the way you were yawning so have you, I’m meeting a friend for lunch, _if_ you behave I’ll get you something.” Tony was busy thinking about the possible applications for people in powerful positions of the empire who took bribes, but he nodded absently.

“Is this an apology for the whipping earlier?” he asked, “Because I could forgive you, for a piece of chocolate cake.” The baron stopped his fussing over Achilles’ harness and turned to stare at him, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Are you trying to get me to _buy you sweets_ by guilting me about beating you?” he asked. “You’re the one who broke the rules Tony.” Tony shrugged and reached for Patroklos’ harness.

“You offered the food, and that’s the fourth one I’ve had this week is all I’m saying,” he replied. “I’m starting to think you just don’t like me.” The baron’s lip twitched like he was fighting a smile and he turned back towards Achilles chuckling as he went. Tony ducked his head to hide his own grin, ten points for charm, he’d have them all eating out of hands at this point.

“What am I going to do with you?” the baron said swinging onto his mount. Tony smiled sweetly and swung onto the smaller warwurg.

“You could always let me go.” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!  
> Sorry it took so long!  
> Feel free to point out anything that's awkward or not right, I'm new to this so all help is welcome c:


	3. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry This took so long!!! I promise the next part won't take as long, again, really sorry!!  
> Feel free to ask any questions, and help me out if you think I need it, happy holidays folks!

If Tony was surprised about the location of their lunch date, he didn’t let it show on his face.

The bar had definitely seen better days; the dilapidated building was older than the empire’s hold on the planet itself, the lights flicked and the paint was peeling, but nevertheless it was teeming with soldiers of all kinds- officers and footmen, cavalry and the odd Augment. It had always been something of a catchall for those coming into port destined for the capital at St. Sarah’s, or staying in Ludo proper.

Tony was curious, it was obvious, but he stayed by his side, looking demurely down whenever a soldier cast a curious look his way, and he considered this or that as Steve led the way in and through the packed tables towards where a huge, drunken crowd was roaring with delight, obscuring something in the corner.

He pushed his way through, grinning broadly as the crowd parted to reveal where two opponents were arm-wrestling amid a scattering of steins and bottles. The man’s face was red with exertion while his opponent; a tall, beautiful blonde with impossible windswept hair and bright eyes; was happily holding his arm easily to the table.

His friends roared insults and encouragements and the crowd cheered, catcalled, and laughed, but in the end the man was forced to admit defeat and the woman took her due and jumped triumphantly onto the table to the euphoric appreciation of her adoring public.

“That’s right boys, let me hear it,” she laughed as the crowd cheered. Steve laughed and pushed forward and felt Tony following close behind.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said with a grin, calling out to her. “First time in from the front as with real rank and I’m already getting complaints.” The woman’s smile grew impossibly larger and she launched herself off her table into Steve’s arms with a cry of delight.

“Cap!” she laughed. “Gods you’re a sight for sore eyes!” She peeled away from him and cleared a table with an imperious wave; her soldiers laughed and harrumphed but moved good-naturedly; it was obvious they adored her.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, taking a seat and picking up an abandoned tankard of something that smoked ominously when she jostled it.  “I figured you’d be halfway to the wood by now, what gives?”

“I was called in on an Audit,” he replied watching her roll her eyes dramatically in sympathy. “So were you, by the way. I had the coats asking me about you all week, where have you been?” She grinned and drained her stolen tankard, passing him something jewel toned in a goblet.

“I just got in, busy me, you know how it is,” she replied. “I think I must have missed the missive.”

“Nice try, they know you’ve been in town for a week, Danvers,” Steve chuckled. “They suggested I come by and remind you your reports are due before they send someone to collect them.” Carol swore loudly and Steve responded by raising his goblet in a toast and draining it in a long gulp.

Carol was a dear friend, an augment like himself; they were actually drafted in through the same training program after their modifications- though fate and the gods had put them on very different tracks. She had served under him for some time before he had recommended she lead her own men.

She was a good soldier and a loyal friend but she could be wild and reckless as the north wind and he did his best to keep an eye on her when he could.

“Well, so much for my clean getaway,” she sighed and pulled a face. “I can’t believe they got you involved, that’s got to be cheating.” He pushed a tankard of something that smelled vaguely lemony towards her in sympathy and motioned for a slave in the corner to bring him a plate of something to eat.

“When has the empire ever played fair?” he joked. “Welcome to actual leadership, the leash gets shorter with every promotion.” Carol grumbled and bumped shoulders with him, returning to her usual good humor.

“Hello,” she said and cocked her head in question at something behind him, “What’s this?” Steve turned his head to look at where Tony had picked up a bottle of something off the table and was sniffing its contents and realized with a start that he had nearly forgotten not to take his eyes off of him. It had been a long time since he’d had a slave like Tony, if he’d ever really had before.

“Did you ask if you could have that?” he sighed as his slave took a long pull of his pilfered drink and smiled in delight at its contents.

“I know you know the answer to that,” Tony replied with his usual sweet smile, “but since you’re so keen on hearing me say it for myself: No, I did not ask, would I have been allowed to try it if I had?”

“I think **you** know the answer to **that** ,” Steve rumbled, rubbing at his temples.

“Then I’m glad I didn’t ask,” Tony replied with a wink, setting down the bottle and coming to heel at his feet as if he had been there all along. Carol blinked in surprise and took in the scene carefully, glancing first at the ornate, heavy make of Tony’s collar and then at the sturdy chain Steve had curled around his fist and then back to the very reveling slave shift he hadn’t really had time to replace.

“Tell me you didn’t,” she said slowly. Steve knew the implications of Tony’s easy familiarity and the way it seemed like he couldn’t be bothered to keep him in line. He flushed despite himself and Carol laughed in delight, clapping him on the back before he had a chance to explain.

“You bought a companion?” she grinned, “You dog! You dirty hypocrite! I can’t believe you! You bought a companion, after all the shit you gave me when I fucked my Jess. I had to listen to you rant for over an hour about responsibility and duty and who knows what else before you remembered I couldn’t get her pregnant!”

Tony snorted and covered it up with a cough and he tried to get a word in but Carol plowed on.

“I can’t believe you got yourself a pet,” she continued. “Did you actually go to the kennels? I would’ve paid money to see that! Illiyan above, you can’t even go near a toy shop without blushing, you live like a goddamn monk! How in the grey hells did you walk into a kennel and pick something out?”

“Do you have to be so loud?” he groaned as several of the other patrons had stopped their drinking to look over at where Carol was gesticulating wildly. “He is not a companion! Well, he is, but I would never- how could you even think that! You know how I feel about that whole business.” Carol sobered immediately and looked around quickly before curling towards him and replying in a fierce whisper.

“Please tell me you didn’t pick up a stray in the city, Rogers. You’re looking to get yourself branded a thief!” Steve shook his head and shifted closer to her.

“No,” he replied stealing a glance at Tony who seemed confused but very interested in the conversation. “I bought him and had him registered so that I could keep an eye on him, he’s mine. It was… suggested that I buy a case or two to bring back with me for the growing season.” Carol glanced over at Tony and gave Steve a flat skeptical look.

“You bought a bed-warmer to use as a ranch hand,” she said dubiously. “At Weirdwood of all places? He won’t last half a day out there.” Tony frowned at the implication that he might not be cut out for something and opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Steve pushed a hand through his hair and gave it the slightest tug in warning.

“I think he’d surprise you,” Steve chuckled. Tony muttered and shook his head to free himself of the hand in his hair. He wondered what Carol saw when she looked at him, if could she see through the act as easily as he could. Tony was pretty and charming but that was like a layer of gilt over a core of pitted iron. A gimmick, something to dazzle and divert your attention while he watched and schemed and acquired whatever it was he needed to destroy the problem at its source.

The collar was a problem, and Steve was as well; whatever games of civility they might be playing at any given moment his new pet was dangerous and they both knew it and some day they would have to address that.

For now they were master and slave, and Tony, he played his part when it suited him and let the mask drop when it didn’t. It was a risk he had taken, but a calculated one, assuming that when the time came, he cut his ties and fled like Steve thought he would. He seemed too practical to stoop to something as petty as revenge and he had proven to be agreeable, provided he got his way. Steve supposed if he figured his way out of Weirdwood of all places he certainly wasn’t going to make a move to stop him.

“Rogers?” Carol asked bringing him back out of his thoughts. “Chasing hoppers in there, Cap?”

“Sorry,” he replied. “It’s been a long day.”

“The cycle’s barely half done for the day,” Carol grinned. “Why are you here anyway? Those Audits take forever.” He launched into the story of the gross incompetence of the coats and the regional embassy going on at lengths about the short in the system they had encountered and laying on his distain thicker than usual to get her to laugh.

The armed forces had a rather stilted relationship with the various and somewhat nebulous branches of imperial bureaucracy, Steve wasn’t above complaining to foster a sense of comradery with his fellows, and Carol could use a laugh before she went to her own chopping block.

 The conversation drew in more solders, who eventually led the discussion away from the empire’s faulty technological department and into other annoying topics like the new draft policy on the outer-ring planets, the capital’s nobles and their ridiculous new organizational demands, and the 15% raise in the Army’s chain-gang quota.

“As if it wasn’t hard enough fighting we gotta worry about rounding up enough survivors to fill up their damn estates,” one soldier groused.  “They’re too damn cheap to hire freeborn and  _we_  gotta pay for it.” Steve agreed, though he didn’t voice it. It was one thing for the Empire to find a use for their war prisoners; it was another entirely to go out in force to actually enslave other species. That wasn’t what he signed up for, and everyone knew it.

“I think it’s absurd that they got us out there fighting for four damn annuals and then they still want the ribbons to come into to town and tell them where their money went.” Another chimed in. “When did they call you in, Cap?”

“I got the summons while I was still aboard my ship,” Steve sighed, toying with the label of the beer he was nursing so he wouldn’t have to drink with the rest. “I didn’t even get a chance to disembark; I took a warwurg and came straight in. They’re telling me it’ll be another week.” The assembled soldiers winced in sympathy and Carol bumped shoulders with him.

“I bet you must be crazy to head home, be with your boy,” she whispered as the conversation continued around them. Steve nodded, noting that Tony, who had had his head on his knee and was pretending to sleep while Steve petted him, stirred with interest under his fingertips.

“I left him with Sam and the rest, but I bet you’ve heard how he can get,” he said fondly.

“All I’ve heard is that you spoil him, like you do everything else,” she replied. He frowned and started to reply but was cut off by a rowdy shout from a group of soldiers nearby.

They had walked in a short while before with their slaves and seemed as determined to make asses of themselves as everyone was to ignore them. He caught Carol’s eyes as she rolled them dramatically and mimed heavy drinking. He wondered where their CO was and if he knew his command had gone off to drink this early in the day.

He looked down at Tony who was no longer feigning sleep and was instead staring out at where one was harassing a young thing, his eyes bright with hatred. The expression as a bit of a shock after having not seen it since that first day and he followed it out to where the poor slave shuffled about trying to give her masters their wine.

“I know how you feel, but we’d better not,” Carol warned. “That’s collared property and we have no right to step in.” Steve hummed in agreement and tried to ignore the way the men laughed as one of them hauled the young thing onto his lap and mimed an action that was unfit for even semi-polite company.

“Never mind,” Carol muttered darkly looking about at where no one had even bothered to look up. “Filthy pigs, I know they’re not mine but-.”

“-I’m going with you,” Steve said getting up at the same time to head over towards their table.

The first man let the slave go as they approached, barking for more wine. Steve caught the poor slave’s arm to steady it as it tumbled past. She was some sort of hob-breed, a mix between maybe human and one of the empire’s many, many different species. She looked earth-female, and very young too, though one could never tell. Her skin was soft blue and her eyes were glazed and unfocused; when he caught her, she shook with fear.

“Playing a little rough there, boys,” Carol murmured dangerously as the slave wandered away towards the kitchens to do as she was bid. “I’m not sure this is the time or the place.”  One of the men turned to sneer but stopped short when he realized who had come to call. Drunk as they were, they knew them, though Steve had guessed they would. Augments like Carol and him were pretty rare; even the lowest born soldier would likely know them by sight, even out of uniform.

“Well, it don’t seem the sort of thing you should be concerned with your lordship,” the first man dared to answer for the rest. “If you don’t mind my saying.” He did mind; it was a brazen remark that the man probably would not have said had he not been as drunk as he was. Steve knew he had a reputation as a soft-touch and knew the gossip that his peers thought him a secret sympathist; everyone else in the bar had gone stock-still to see what he would do. He wasn’t in a position to attract attention to himself, but he desperately wanted to help; he couldn’t just stand down when he could easily guess the poor girl’s fate if someone didn’t step in.

“You’re right, it shouldn’t be, but I’m sure you boys have better things to do with your time than tease some poor creature,” he replied keeping his voice mild. “Especially here, it’s a little distracting honestly.” He remembered to keep an eye on Tony who had snuck around his side to glare at the men and might do something rash if he wasn’t kept in line.

The last thing he needed on the record on top of everything else was a report of his slave killing a soldier with a bottle and starting a riot at a bar.

The slave came back baring wine and the same gutted look and carefully maneuvered around the table. The man who had spoken, who was obviously her master, leered at her as she walked by.

“We’re just tryin’ to have a little fun, same as you. No trouble here, sir,” he nodded to Tony whose eyes narrowed dangerously. “We’re out with our pretties too. She was showin’ off a bit, I know, but we’re showin’ her her place. I apologize if that’s distracting.”

That should have been it, the apology for the noise. No one cared what a man did with his property and Steve knew he should nod and walk away but found himself unwilling to budge just yet. Carol placed a hand on his arm and gave the tiniest shake of her head in warning and he relented, moving back towards their table.

The slave bumped his shoulder as he moved away and he apologized without thinking, earning him a few chuckles from the drunken men.

“So polite, your grace,” one man jeered. “You’d think she was a lady.” The seemed to trigger something in the slave, her hands shook and the pitcher clattered to the floor from her nerveless fingers. It shattered with a crash, spilling wine and glass everywhere, including on Tony and Carol who tensed at the sound but did not shout like some of the others.

“You stupid cow!” her master swore reaching for a prod near the end of the table. “Look what you’ve done!” The girl recoiled at the sight of the prod and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony flinch along with her, helpless to do anything but watch as the man advanced towards her. Something about that made Steve see red.

He turned and pushed the man aside grabbing the prod as he did so. He gave the man a pointed look as he let the thing clatter to the ground and came to stand in front of the girl, who shook and wheezed and stared sightlessly ahead lost somewhere in her own mind.

“Shhh, hello there, hello,” he said gently, turning towards her as the man spat something under his breath but sat back down. “It’s alright, come on, look at me, it’s fine.” The girl’s shaking subsided and she silently looked up into his face, her own face streaked with tears. He offered her a tiny smile in reward.

“Good girl,” he soothed, “That’s it, you’re a very good girl. You’ve made a bit of a mess, that’s aright, we all do, but I’m sure these men are still thirsty, have you been trained on what to do?” The girl nodded still crying and murmured something so low that he had to stoop down towards her lips to hear it.

“Yes,” he replied when she was done. “Good girl, that’s just right, would you like me to come with you to ask?” The slave suddenly looked unsure but eventually she gave a tiny nod and allowed him to guide her toward the back kitchens where they spent a few moments coordinating before coming back with a bucket of water and a cloth while another girl trailed behind with a bin and yet another slave came bearing a fresh pitcher of wine.

“Now, you’re going to clean this up,” he said firmly setting the bucket down as the other slave began to pour the other patrons their wine. “And when you’re done, I want you to come to heel, have you been taught that?” The girl visibly flinched and began to shake but nodded anyway clearly fighting more tears.

“That’s a good girl, but heel to me, alright?” he said gently causing the girl to look up in surprise. “Don’t be frightened, just be a good girl and do as I say.” The slave nodded and went to work while he walked back towards the tables to sit next to her master whose expression was sour and a little afraid.

“How much did you pay for that girl?” he asked calmly watching the man’s friends murmur uneasily under their breath.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business,” the man spat back.

“It’s not,” he agreed. “How much did you pay?” the man cursed and mumbled some amount to which he nodded.

“That’s fine,” he replied cutting off the man’s sullen muttering. “I’ll give you half that, for the damages- don’t start, son, whatever it is you’ve done to that creature, it can’t be undone. I want you to take this money, and I want you and your friends to go, right now.” The man’s expression turned ugly and he sneered something under his breath but he kept his expression serene as he slid his card through the band on the other man’s wrist and watched him and his friends walk off.

“You and these slaves,” Carol chuckled as he walked back to their table at last. “Always playing white knight, you can’t just leave it be can you?” He frowned at her and picked up his beer, fiddling with it nervously.

“He was an ass, and a bully; he was going to beat her like a dog in front of all these people,” he sighed. “How could you expect me to look the other way?”

“I don’t blame you,” Carol replied, “The poor thing’s so nervous she can’t tell up from down, are you sure she’s up for Weirdwood?”

“Well, we could always use another beekeeper,” he answered and Carol laughed.

“Keep that up, Cap,” she grinned, “You’re a picket sign away from marching on the capital with the peace movement anyways.”

“Well, the war can’t go on forever,” he grumbled and noted the way Carol’s face fell at his words. “What?”

“You haven’t heard?” she asked.

 “Heard what?”

“The news, the earth Prince,” Carol hesitated and bit at her lips, and Steve felt something sort of tight and uncomfortable settle in his stomach.

“What’s happened?”

“He’s dead, apparently pirates blew up his ship in neutral space on the way in to some talks,” she sighed. “The Federal Alliance is blaming us and the Republic of Earth is gearing up the World Security Council again.”

Steve couldn’t quite school the look on his face and signaled for another beer to distract himself; of all the rotten, terrible luck.

The Republic of Earth was the central hub of the Federal Alliance and it technically had dozens of princes, all vying for power in the strange hybrid of capitalistic entrepreneurship and personal pageantry that was the Earth political system, but the empire was only ever worried about one of them.

For their protection, Earth kept its transmissions secret when it came to their princes. Nothing was really known about them in the empire, there were no photos leaked out, most they didn’t even have names for, but everyone was aware of the princes who directed the weapons manufacture and armed forces.

 One of them had been a thorn in the empire’s side since he took power. A brilliant inventor and skilled tactician, Steve had actually been active and fighting during the years the prince had led the earth forces and remembered it had been a relief when he was called away.

He had come into true power some time ago, Steve had still been a mere soldier then, before he had killed for the barony at Weirdwood and he still remembered how the papers had predicted the rise of the prince’s star was an ill omen for the imperial forces.

Then two years ago the unthinkable had happened, the prince had been abducted by domestic insurgents and had come back from that experience practically begging for peace and toleration.

He withdrew from his position as head weapons designer and had gone into some sort of self-imposed isolation. It was all a bit of a mystery from their end, but many had begun to quietly embrace him a symbol of hope for peace, and indeed Steve had hoped that with his influence and intellect- which he still held in rather high esteem having been at its mercy in his early career and barely escaped whatever earth had as their version of the collar because of it- their two governments could have actually struck a peace.

That hope died with him, and it looked like the earth government was more than happy to name him a martyr for their cause, now the war would drag on, maybe forever, who could tell these days.

“Was it us?” he asked after a while. Carol’s shoulders lifted up in a shrug.

“Probably,” she sighed. “I’m sure when you get back to the wood your people will know more than mine, but my guess is yeah. We bring in a lot of money and slaves from the western front, tons more than on my end. You know that already, when’s the last time you had to really bust ass to meet your quotas?”

“We lose twice the men there too,” Steve rumbled, “And triple the beasts. Do you have any idea what the growing season is like out here these days? It’s like I get ten orders for fabricants to get blown up on the damn Western line for every one from the North.” Carol gave him a sad smile.

“Yeah I’m sorry,” she said, “I know how you get about your creepy little monsters you colony boy, this whole thing is- well, you know how it is.” They sat in silence for a moment and Steve watched Tony shift uncomfortably against him. He seemed distant and troubled; the news had to be twice as devastating for him.

He was brought out of his growing mood by the sudden appearance of his new slave, who hovered nervously in the corner of his vision, unsure of where she should be since Tony was already taking up the standard position.

Steve collected his thoughts and taught her what to do when she found another slave was at heel and turned to Carol clasping her arm in the familiar soldier’s handshake.

“I better go, I should go get this new girl processed and finish today’s reports,” he sighed, “Take care of yourself, come see me as soon as you can get free, bring your girls, it’s been ages since I’ve seen them.”

“You just want to make sure I’m not neglecting them,” Carol teased, “Don’t try to play innocent you sympathist you.” She hugged him again and walked him out and paid for a kennel cab when it was obvious his new purchase could not muster the courage to mount a warwurg.

He took Tony to the inn and spent the rest of the afternoon getting the girl processed, trying to be as gentle as he could with her while still getting done what was necessary.

Two of the four moons were in the sky by the time they got in, he had lingered at the bar with Carol longer than he’s thought and processing for companions could take an age when they had a _real_ pedigree behind them.

Tony was in his office tending to some new bruises when he got there and he frowned but decided not to ask.

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight,” he said sitting down at his desk. Tony had been locked in the cellar due to his inability to share space with Steve’s other slaves without starting some form of riot, but the new girl was as raw as a skinned hopper and she needed the space to settle. “I won’t bother threatening you to behave, there’s no use to that is there?” Tony grinned at him in answer.

He pretended to tidy up the room while Steve peeled himself out of his dusty riding clothes and flopped down at his feet when he settled in to read over a few reports. He was learning at least. They passed the hour like that, quiet and still while they waited for curfew.

“Oh, before I forget,” Steve said looking up as the clock chimed at the fifteen- to- lockdown warning. He rummaged through his traveling bags and pulled out a box that was slightly battered from the day’s travels and set it by Tony on the floor. “Here.”

Tony looked suspicious, but he obediently pulled the box into his lap and opened it, revealing a miniature chocolate cake inside.

“They didn’t have slices,” Steve explained, “I had to order a cake, its chocolate though; I’m assuming you wanted the earth kind.”

Tony stared at the cake for a long time and when he looked up his expression was strikingly exposed and vulnerable. Steve patted him on the head and handed him a fork.

“Just this once alright?” he said as Tony hesitantly took the cheap plastic thing and stared at it as well. “You know you’re not allowed to-”

“-why?” Tony asked, cutting off what he was about to say. He looked almost frightened and Steve felt the tug of pity pull against his chest.

“You were good today,” he replied simply.  Tony didn’t say anything. For a moment Steve was sure he would do something rash but after a while he began to pick at the cake, and eventually hunger ruled out and he tucked into it in earnest.

After he was done they walked up the stairs to Steve’s rooms and he inspected everything inside while Steve showered and got ready for bed. He collapsed into his sheets feeling exhausted and watched Tony pace the room.

“You can sleep up here with me,” he yawned reaching for a pillow, “or you can sleep on the floor. Inns typically keep pallets under the beds for companions so have a look.”

There _was_ a pallet under his bed and Tony dragged it as far away from Steve as was possible before settling onto it.

He threw him a pillow and kicked off an extra sheet for him to use if he wanted and likewise settled in.

“Are you going to read me a story too,” Tony snorted snatching up the sheet and bundling himself into it in an almost childlike way. Steve cracked a smile into his pillow.

“It’s all a lot less unpleasant when you actually do as you’re told isn’t it?” he yawned. Tony swore at him for a while under his breath before eventually falling into an uneasy slumber.

Steve lay in the dark chasing his racing thoughts and trying to re-acclimate to the sounds of another person sharing space with him.

He fell asleep watching the shadows flicker in the light of the thing in Tony’s chest as he shifted restlessly in his sleep.


End file.
